


there's something so tragic about you; don't you agree?

by unbreakable_groundriot



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Jealous Crowley, Love Triangle, M/M, Pining, Pre-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-11 12:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20546210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbreakable_groundriot/pseuds/unbreakable_groundriot
Summary: Crowley does not approve of Aziraphale's new boyfriend: The Archangel Fucking GabrielTags to be added





	1. Chapter 1

For the first time since cake had been invented Aziraphale was not eating his cake. Needless to say, Crowley was worried.

“Is it not good?” He leans in and lets his tongue flick out briefly. The cake smells like a good cake. He’s never tried the stuff but he’s seen Aziraphale eat it and give his play by play reviews. This cake was supposed to be good cake.

“No no. It’s lovely.” The angel assures with a small smile. “I simply... Am nervous. I have news.”

News. Crowley does not like news. News meant change. Crowley does not like change.

“News?” His winces. His voice comes out like a human boy hitting puberty.  
“I... Have a... Well, I suppose boyfriend is the word.”

Six thousand years of pent up sexual and romantic frustration suddenly shatter like so much fine china. “Hnnk?”  
Aziraphale smiles shyly. “It’s unconventional, I know, but... Well, Gabriel has been very sweet lately and one thing lead to another...” He waves his fork around. “I wanted you to be the first to know.”

Aziraphale really knows how to break a man’s heart.  
“Gabriel? Really?” He manages to huff out. He thinks he keeps the heartache out of his voice.

The angel flushes rather sweetly. Everything Aziraphale does is sweet, at least on the outside. “He’s chosen a very handsome form and you know I prefer male human forms.” He picks at his cake. “And he’s... a little... ditzy, but very sweet. Earnest.”

Earnest. Sweet. Ditzy. “He’s an idiot wrapped in a nice suit.” He points his finger at Azirsphale accusingly. “He doesn’t he know to take the tacking stitches out of his suits.”  
“Oh, he’s learning! Don’t be a sourpuss.”

Crowley raps his nails against the table. "You get nervous every time he pops in. You don't even like his memos.  
The angel pouts slightly. He finally takes a nibble of his cake. "Well, I thought it through and I suppose it's because I've always fancied him. That's what Gabriel suggested. It makes perfect sense."  
"That's what Gabriel suggested?" His glasses slide down his nose so he can get a good look at the angel before him.  
"Yes. We had a chat. He brought flowers." A pause. "Well, he thought they were flowers. It was romanesco. Still lovely though."  
"...I did wonder why you have a vase of broccoli on your desk."

Crowley sighs and tips his head back then. "If you're sure, Aziraphale. Not like I can stop you, yeah? He'll probably smite me. Does he even know about," he points between them, "this?"  
Aziraphale pauses. "No... But he'll understand."  
"Satan help me."


	2. Chapter 2

Gabriel visits often, or so Crowley thinks. He can smell the usual angelic cinnamon that Aziraphale gives off and there's a hint of lavender that he's only smelled when Gabriel has been around. Angels all smelled like something pure and it was always unique. He can't remember what he used to smell like. Aziraphale tells him that he smells like pine aftershave, but he's never used aftershave.

"Purple tartan? Could you find a way to make tartan worse? Yes. You've done it."

He sprawls out at the little dining table in the little flat on the little third floor of the bookshop. It logically shouldn't be there considering the building only had two floors, but one did not question the lodging of an angel.

"Tartan is stylish." Aziraphale huffs as he sets Crowley's usual coffee in front of him. They didn't always meet for tea, but the demon had started skulking around more. Something stank of wrongness and barely concealed jealousy.   
"It's purple."  
"Yes. Gabriel said it brings out my eyes." His soft cheeks turn pink and his smile goes shy like a lovesick girl. He sits once he's laid out his tea and a plate of cucumber sandwiches. Crowley never eats any of it but the ritual is nice.   
"Brings our your eyes." He rolls his eyes. He knows Aziraphale can see the gesture even behind his glasses. "Purple is not your color. You like...Beige... And beige." He waves his hand around. The little flat actually has wallpaper that is closer to yellow than beige and it's actually quite nice.

"I like other colors. Blue, for example. Blue is a lovely color." The angel bites into one of the sandwiches. "Red. I do like red. Your hair is a good example."   
"Then wear a red bowtie." He grumbles. He can only hope his face hasn't turned red.

Aziraphale looks so damned happy. He's positively glowing. Crowley can't think of a time when he's seen him so happy. Well, maybe when he'd saved his books all those years ago, but that could have just been shock.

The angel hums as he chews. "I just think it's...Charming. You really would like him if you would take the time to know him."  
"I like to not be smited."   
"I'm sure he would understand! It's not like we're...Working together. Nothing says enemies can't be friends." His smile is apple-cheeked and earnest and it makes Crowley's heart thud and ache.

"A lot says enemies can't be friends. You, for one, say just that." He jabs a finger toward the still beaming angel. "And why are you so smitten all of a sudden, eh? And with Gabriel? I know you've had human..boyfriends, ugh, but an archangel? Your boss for that matter? Doesn't seem safe."

Aziraphale takes a long time to answer. Really it's only thirty seconds or so, but Crowley thinks it's hours. "He is... A safe choice. A good choice. Humans die. They age. They ask questions. Angels don't do any of those things."

He smiles shyly and the demon bites his tongue. 'I don't do any of those things either', he thinks, but he doesn't dare say it.


	3. Chapter 3

Aziraphale will admit that Gabriel is a bit... intense. He’s loud and overly friendly like a dog that has been much loved but isn’t quite trained yet. 

He barges into the bookshop or rather he appears in the little flat in a flash of light and the distant sound of a tinkling bell.He was, as always, impeccably dressed. His hair was perfect and even his facial hair was just on the right side of five o’clock. “Aziraphale! I’ve been looking all over for you.” He waved his hand vaguely. “That’s what the humans say, correct?”

He’s on the angel in just a few strides. Aziraphale nearly drops the kettle. In fact, he does drop the kettle but it lands miraculously back onto the stovetop. Gabriel kisses him warm and sweet. The Archangel always smells like lavender and tastes like it too. 

He clears his throat when their lips part. He can feel his cheeks redden. “Ah... Yes. Humans do say that... But you would have had to look for me somewhere else first.” 

Gabriel wraps him up in his arms. “Yes well, human sayings are confusing. What are you doing?”

Gabriel was an eccentric idiot by human standards but perfectly normal as an angel. Most of them only knew enough about humans to fill out the paperwork. Gabriel has a basic understanding of human activities although he was a little behind in the times. 

“Ah... Making tea.” He squirmed when a playful kiss was pressed to his neck. “Do try it, darling. Tea is completely natural.”

Gabriel was more focused on peppering all of Aziraphale’s exposed skin with wet, biting kisses. “I will not sully this temple, Aziraphale, and neither should you.” His hand stroked down his back to squeeze the angel’s backside. “But I do like what the human sustenance has done to your behind.” 

Aziraphale flushed. He gripped the expertly tailored lapels of Gabriel’s silver-lavender button down. “Ah... You’re going to leave marks, Gabriel. Then you’ll scold me for miracling them away!”

The Archangel laughs against his skin. “Maybe that’s what I want? I want all of the universe to know that you’re all mine!” He nuzzled his neck in a way that makes Aziraphale shiver. 

“I missed you.” The taller man whispers. “I wish you would come back with me. We could send another agent. You belong in Heaven.”


	4. Chapter 4

A mug of coffee is placed in front of him. The cup is filled with his usual coffee that is half double cream and half coffee. The beverage is thick and had horrified Aziraphale the first time Crowley had asked for it.

The angel sits across from him, as usual, but instead of a cup of tea, he has nothing but the small plate he uses for his nibbles.

“No tea?” He asks rather abruptly.  
“Ah... I’ve decided to... Come off of it I suppose.” Aziraphale carefully takes two of the jammy biscuits from the center plate. They’re one of the only foods Crowley has ever been able to stomach. It’s usually a treat, but now he’s suspicious.

“Why? You love tea. You love telling me about orange Pikachu.”  
“Pekoe, dear boy.”  
“Yeah yeah. What’s with the sudden change?” He tips his head so he can get a good look at Aziraphale without the tint of is sunglasses. His angel, the angel, looks somewhat uncomfortable. He plays with his napkin and looks slightly to the left. He would have been the perfect subject for Da Vinci.

“I’ve simply decided that tea isn’t doing anything much for my corporation. It’s best I don’t have any.” He flashes a big smile and Crowley is nearly blinded by it. His heart thuds the way it always does when Aziraphale smiles at him. “Now please eat! These are from that lovely little place a few blocks over. The one with exotic flavors.” He wiggles his fingers.

He sits back but not before grabbing one of the biscuits. “First the change in palette and now a change in palate?” He bites into the treat. The filling is pomegranate or so he thinks. Food turned to dust in his mouth. God seemed to have forgotten to take away jammy biscuits. It had been a bit of serendipity discovering that.

He watches as Aziraphale barely eats the biscuit he had taken. Something is wrong, but he's not sure how to ask in a tactful way so he just goes for it. "What did Gabriel say to you?" He sets his half-eaten biscuit down. "Because if he's saying shit to you I swear--"

Aziraphale smiles a little. "It's nothing, dear boy. He just made a good point. We don't need to eat or drink. It's a waste of time really." He sits with his hands in his lap. "It's even gluttonous, wouldn't you agree?"

He shoves an entire biscuit into his mouth to keep himself from being a complete ass. He chews with an expression that is half grumpy and half rapturously in love with the treat in his mouth. "No. Gluttony is too much. You eat like a normal human." His mouth is still half full as he speaks.  
"But I'm not human." Aziraphale picks a loose thread. He doesn't really meet Crowley's eyes and that pisses him off too. "I'm an angel. I really should start acting like one, shouldn't I? It's been six thousand and some years."  
"I like you the way you are." His voice wavers slightly.

He loves Aziraphale the way he is. He loves his fussiness. He loves his stupid tartan accessories and that angel wing pinkie ring. He loves the way he demands his tea be made with water properly boiled on the stovetop instead of miracled hot. He loves the smell of his cinnamon scent mixed with his clove and orange cologne. He loves watching him wiggle and hum as he takes the first bite of his meal. He loves. He loves. He loves.

Aziraphale smiles beatifically and it almost burns with its brightness. "I know." He replies simply. "But I think it's time for a change."

What happened to going too fast?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tag: Non-graphic post-sex discussion and body shaming (kinda?)

They fall together onto the not-as-rarely-used-as-you'd-think bed that resides in the small bedroom. They're sticky and sweaty and out of breath. He laughs low and breathy as he's pulled against a strong, slightly hairy chest.

Gabriel is gorgeous. There is no denying he's chosen a human form that is attractive to most women and plenty of men as well. His chest and stomach are flat and firm, but not particularly defined. He has the sort of jawline that any man would kill for and a bright, slightly goofy smile that could make anyone feel all tingly.

He isn't really Aziraphale's type. He has enjoyed his fair share of human men and they've generally been thin and tall and sharp. He can't really complain considering he is fucking the Archangel Gabriel. No one on Earth, in Hell, or in Heaven can say the same.

"If I had known human fornication was so enjoyable I would have started centuries ago." Gabriel kisses him slow and lazy and reverent. He can't help but melt into the kiss. He slides his hands up and up to curl into the archangel's sex-mussed hair.

Their lips part, but they don't pull away from each other. Gabriel's violet eyes are half-lidded. He nuzzles Aziraphale's nose with his own. "Is it always like that?" As he speaks his large hands wander over soft rolls of sweat coated skin. He shivers. When they had first started this little venture on the sofa downstairs he had been shy about removing his shirt. Gabriel was stunning nude or clothed. Aziraphale had once been considered the ideal man with his soft, feminine curves. Such male forms had gone out of style a few centuries ago.

"If you're doing it right." He starts to scratch at the other angel's scalp which earns him a pleased moan.

"We should do it more." Gabriel declares as he squeezes and kneads whatever he can get his hands on.  
"Then visit more, darling."

"Just come home with me. You've been thinking about it, haven't you?" He looks hopeful and Aziraphale is again reminded of a friendly dog.  
"I have..."  
"And?"

Aziraphale uses his latent strength to roll Gabriel onto his back. He settles on his lower stomach and grins down at him. "And I think I should show you more of what these bodies can do."

Gabriel leaves a day later with a kiss, a promise to return soon, and the tinkling of a bell.

Aziraphale stares at himself in the antique full-length mirror he keeps mostly for aesthetic purposes. Gabriel had kissed and touched his body curiously. "Soft," he had whispered. He had squeezed and teased and left dark bruises that he begged Aziraphale not to miracle away.

"Soft." He poked his stomach. He wasn't particularly overweight by modern human standards, but the muscle he had once had for the battlefield was covered by soft, human fat. His body had grown stretchmarks and patches of dimpled cellulite. He'd never thought much of it before, but now...

Gabriel was perfect. Surely he would want his partner to be perfect too?

* * *

Crowley does this thing, Aziraphale has noticed, where he will lean in as close as possible into his personal space without quite breaking the bubble. Usually, he will play with his hair or one of his various expensive pieces of jewelry or, less often, he will stroke under his neck and chin. He doesn't eat. Aziraphale has seen the poor thing vomiting up dust when he's tried. He does drink coffee or tea while simply watching. Aziraphale chalked it up to envy. Crowley couldn't eat and so he liked to watch Aziraphale. It was harmless though it had been unnerving when he had first noticed it.

"You're not eating?"

Aziraphale stirs his tea. Instead of milk and sugar, he's added a squirt of lemon. It's not as tasty, but it was a small price to pay. He had decided that tea was one vice he didn’t want to give up just yet. "I've decided it would be best if I stopped indulging. We don't need food, as you know."

The demon's eyes narrow. His sunglasses sit near his coffee. "We don't need to eat, but your body uses food. You'll end up like me." There's something like a warning in his voice.

Crowley is just his type. He'd never seen the man-shaped being nude since bathhouses were still popular, but he knows under those expensive outfits that he's thin and lean and gorgeous. He is thin to the point of jutting bones at times, but there are other times that Aziraphale has seen him guzzling down nutritional shakes to put on weight. They had never discussed it in length and certainly never sober. Their bodies would not die from lack of food, but there were consequences from undereating and overeating.

"I certainly have enough reserves to be fine, dear boy." He pinches his own cheek. "But your concern is sweet." Crowley's nose curls. "Come now, don't be childish."

The demon leans in. He uses his the backs of his nails to stroke the underside of his chin as he seems to inspect Aziraphale. "What put this into your head, angel? You've never cared about your looks so much before." He pauses. His pupils narrow slightly. "Has Gabriel said something to you? That's it, isn't he? That stupid bastard keeps—"

He raises his hand quickly to cut him off. "I don't know why you're so obsessed with Gabriel, Crowley. I am happy with him. He fills something I've been missing."

Crowley is nearly scratching himself now. He keeps his nails short and often painted black or sometimes deep red. "You told me fifty years ago that I was going too fast for you." His eyes shift. His iris take up most of his sclera. He's stressed or scared. So many years of enemy-ship has given Aziraphale the ability to read the demon like a book. "Six thousand years, Aziraphale." His voice hitches. The angel has never seen him like this. "I've waited and waited and I've hinted and tried to get your attention."

"Crowley, please don't do this." He finds himself begging. He has known for so long that Crowley loved him. Every little sign of the demon's devotion stabbed at his heart. He could not lie and say he didn't harbor feelings for him. He could not lie and say he didn't wish they could be together, but they couldn't. They were on different sides.

The sunglasses are back on. Crowley's hand shakes where it sits on the table. He curls it into a fist no doubt in an attempt to hide it. "I'm going to do it." He snaps. "Since that day I felt hope. I hoped you would...I hoped you would love me. I hoped that if I just waited—" He chokes on the words the same way he chokes when Aziraphale accidentally blesses him after he's sneezed.

He stands abruptly. Both of their cups tip over from the force of it. "Enjoy him. Let him fill whatever gap you think you have. Do what you will, angel, but I won't come running to save you as I have before." With a snap of his fingers, he's gone. It's no small miracle and it leaves behind the scent of sulfur.

The angel can only stare at the now vacant spot as tea and coffee slowly drip to the floor. He covers his mouth with his hand and lets out a sob thousands of years in the making. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is a tiny baby chapter

Gabriel comes and goes and comes and goes. He is all smiles and kisses and well-meaning, but not quite right gifts. Aziraphale thinks that the archangel knows something is wrong. Gabriel is many things, but he isn't stupid. He is the Messenger of God and the de facto leader of the Archangels with a capital A. Such an angel could not be stupid. Gabriel was simply socially inept. It was a strange combination.

"You don't sound very sure, Aziraphale."

The blonde angel is actually shocked into silence for several long moments. "I'm agreeing to return to Heaven. Shouldn't you be happy?"

Gabriel strokes his cheek once and then lets his hand drop back onto the table. "You're not happy."  
Ah...Don't be ridiculous."   
"You've lost weight." Gabriel pokes his cheek this time. "You aren't eating human food. You aren't consuming the leaf liquid."  
"Tea." He supplies meekly.  
"I don't need a lesson on the alphabet, Aziraphale." Gabriel huffs. He furrows his brows in thought. "You...Like it down here. I don't understand why, but you do."

Aziraphale smiles weakly. "Gabriel, are you breaking up with me?"  
"Uh... Should I?"


End file.
